


Quicksand (I’m Sinking)

by slut_4_tsuki



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Haikyuu Angst Week, How Do I Tag, I Made Myself Cry, I kin Yamaguchi, Implied Relationships, M/M, Tsuki is there for Yamaguchi like a good friend, Yamaguchi feels, good “friend”, i hurt yamaguchi bc i love him, it’s fine, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27459397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slut_4_tsuki/pseuds/slut_4_tsuki
Summary: All good things must come with a price. Tadashi will pay himself as the price, his body, mind, and soul as the collateral. He will do whatever it takes, as long as they are okay.Yamaguchi sinks.aka a character analysis of yamaguchi
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei & Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	Quicksand (I’m Sinking)

Yamaguchi is stuck. 

Not the frozen-in-time-can’t-move kind of stuck, but the quicksand kind of stuck. The drying cement kind of stuck. The kind of stuck where you can still move, still thrash around, still fight, still grasp at thin air trying to pull yourself out. Or you can choose to not move or struggle at all, it doesn’t matter. Because either way, you’ll still sink. 

Yamaguchi knows he’s not the best at anything. 

He’s not the smartest at school, nor the most creative. He doesn’t have some defining talent or hobby, like singing or dancing or roller blading or pottery making. He doesn’t have any quirky tricks he can do with his body or fingers. He’s not attractive, with his unruly hair, and his gangly long limbs, and his god-awful, eye sore freckles. He’s not really athletic, always falling short in volleyball, even if he works on his receives until his arms have heart shaped bruises, or if he practices his jump floater until his palms are an angry red, or until his veins run with fire and every single muscle beneath his sweaty skin aches, he’s still left on the sidelines, from the outside looking in. Watching everyone around him succeed as he struggles to fight against quicksand. Stuck. 

Yamaguchi knows he’s not special. He’s not beautiful. He’s not talented. He’s not funny. He’s not interesting. He doesn’t matter. He’s not worth anything, no matter how hard he tries. 

He’s not enough. 

Yamaguchi sinks deeper. 

Tadashi shakes away his thoughts and turns to his side. Tsuki sits beside him, back up against a tree, eyes closed, earbuds in. The wind picks up and blows swiftly through the park, ruffling Tsuki’s stark blonde hair. The sun shines down, swelteringly hot, making Tsuki’s already pale and sweaty skin glow even brighter. Yamaguchi’s eyes travel from Tsuki’s new volleyball shoes, the ones his brother Akiteru got him, the ones he tried to brush off like he didn’t want them despite his blushing cheeks and excited eyes. Then to the scar on his knee, from where he was climbing a tree with yamaguchi when they were nine, and fell out. The scar from where he bleed profusely but never shed a single tear or spoke of pain, only focused on assuring tadashi that he would be okay. Eyes then travel to the volleyball uniform Tsuki currently wears, the one that looks like a second skin despite many protests saying otherwise. The one that looks like it belongs on his body. Finally, he reaches Tsuki’s face, relaxed and carved of stone, eyelashes fanning out across high cheek bones, skin creamy white and silky smooth. Absolutely stunning. 

Tsuki shines. Yamaguchi begins to flicker. 

Tadashi turns back around, and looks up at the clear, blue sky with watery eyes. 

He can do it for them. 

If giving his maximum effort but still being on the bench gives his teammates a chance to play, then so be it. As long as he can see hinata’s supernova smile, or the glimmer of determination in kageyama’s eyes, as long as he gets to hear Tanaka and Nishinoya’s shouts of excitement, and hear the sound of a powerful spike hit the floor as it’s deflected by Tsuki’s awaiting hands, as long as they are happy, yamaguchi can handle a little misery. 

As long as Tadashi can compliment beautiful people, as long as he can praise talented individuals on their singing voices and their dancing skills and their rolling blading tricks and their new pottery pieces, as long as he can stand in awe of others who are far more intelligent than him, as long as he can make someone’s day by appreciating them for who they are and what makes them special, he will continue to be ignored. Yamaguchi will gladly stand on the side lines, watching others live and thrive as his own worthlessness festers deep within him, he will be just fine, as long as as they keep smiling. 

All good things must come with a price. Tadashi will pay himself as the price, his body, mind, and soul as the collateral. He will do whatever it takes, as long as they are okay. 

Yamaguchi sinks. 

The quicksand greets him like an old friend, enveloping him and soaking him to the bone. It pours out of his mouth, his ears, and his eyes like fountains of youth. He can’t hear, he can’t see, he can’t breathe, he can’t move anymore. He’s stuck, stuck for good, the cement is drying, he will stay here, he will stay stuck for them. For all of them. For everyone. For his family. For his friends. For his team. For Tsuki. 

Yamaguchi feels a bump against his shoulder. Tsuki sits beside him, observing and alert. His left eyebrow arches up in curiosity and amusement. His eyes match, but with added concern, and something else that yamaguchi still struggles to place, the only descriptor coming close being adoration. No pity, or annoyance, or mocking. Kei’s clear, golden eyes sparkle as he wordlessly reaches out and offers tadashi an ear bud, and suddenly that offer, that ear bud, Tsuki’s outstretched hand becomes a life line. Suddenly the quicksand is all but melting off his skin, disappearing as fast as it arrived, and tadashi is warm, so warm as he basks in Kei’s light, finally breaking the surface and gulping in fresh air. He sees fire, and blanket forts, and dinosaur toys, and playground swings, he hears children’s laughter, an 80’s rock station, late night crickets, and old cartoons on a staticky TV, he smells strawberry sherbert, and melting orange crush popsicles, and homemade pancakes, he feels sweat drip down his neck, grass beneath his bare feet, and the wind blowing through his hair. Tadashi looks from Kei’s outstretched palm, to his warm, familiar, golden eyes, and he sees home. 

Yamaguchi may not be beautiful, or talented, or interesting, or worthy, or enough, but to Tsuki he is. To Tsuki he matters. He is unique. He is special. He is extraordinary. He is enough. 

Tsuki breathes in. Yamaguchi takes a single step.


End file.
